Natural Enemies (Spirit Seekers Book 2)

by Janna Ruth

  “Sorry. My self-preservation skills are about as good as yours,” he replies flatly.

  There’s a distinction, though. He’s done something heroic. I’ve just been stupid or naïve, if you want to be nice about it. I don’t know whether the nymphs alerted their cousin or whether it was just an accident, but I feel bad about the entire trip.

  Wulf is pushing himself up on his elbows. “So, Rika. Reckon your sylph can give me that blow dryer treatment you promised?”

  My immediate reaction is to tense up. Wulf’s track record with spirits is abysmal, but I can’t ignore the momentous step he’s taken in asking me. Maybe Aeola stepping in front of him to preserve both of us has changed his attitude ever so slightly. I bite my lip, then try to test him. “You need to ask her, not me.”

  “Right.” It’s clear that he’s hoped for an easy way out. Nevertheless, he turns his eyes upward to where Aeola hovers just as strung up as I am. “Aeola, right?” Wulf takes a deep breath. “Thanks for saving us just now. I know you didn’t have to do that, so thank you.”

  Oh, wow, looks like I’m getting a lot more than I bargained for.

  “Would you please help us get our clothes dry?” He actually asked her. And so politely. I’m amazed.

  Aeola settles on my shoulder, whispering in my ear. “Do you think it’s safe?”

  I make sure my eyes are locked with Wulf. “It’ll be safe for you.”

  Wulf understands immediately. He sits up straight and rolls out his hands. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

  “That’s quite a change of heart,” I say when Aeola blows the wind through us like an alpine foehn.

  Wulf gets up to his feet and extends a hand to help me up. “Yeah, obviously, there are some exceptions.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  AEOLA’S WARM BREEZE doesn’t dry our clothes completely. They are still damp by the time we get back to the car, but at least they’re no longer dripping. I take off my shoes and socks and leave them in the back to dry. Judging by Wulf’s look, he wishes he could do the same, but driving barefoot is probably not a good idea.

  Our drive back is distinctively different from the drive here. We’ve hardly pulled back out on the street when Wulf says, “I guess I owe you an apology.”

  “Is it my birthday today?” I ask and frown.

  Wulf smirks at that. “Don’t be like that. I know how to admit when I’m wrong.”

  “You’re just not wrong most of the time.” I know I should stop teasing him before he gets mad again.

  “What if we’re both right?” He looks at me for a second. “I still think most spirits are dangerous and can cause absolutely devastating catastrophes. But there are obviously exceptions to the rule, and maybe… maybe, some grief can be avoided if we can work with those.”

  When he says it like that, I can’t keep myself from beaming at him.

  Wulf glances at me and quickly returns his eyes on the road. “Say something.”

  “I think the exceptions are the rule, but otherwise, yeah, maybe, we both have a point.” I mean, it’s proven that some spirits can wreak havoc for literally everyone in their way, spirit or human. I wish there would’ve been a way to talk down the Erlking, but he’d clearly been beyond that. “What made you change your mind? Apart from Aeola proving herself to you?”

  He inhales deeply. “That’s certainly the biggest part of it. I couldn’t get Iván’s words out of my mind. How he said that we don’t have the luxury to turn down help from the spirits. I thought that if another commander could bring himself to let go of his reservations and attempt a novel approach, I should at least give it a chance.”

  “That’s why you wanted to come along,” I conclude softly.

  “Yeah, that and what you said about polluted spirits struck a chord.” He frowns slightly. “There’s something severely wrong about these spirits.”

  “I know!” I exclaim, a little too excited. I’m just glad he picked it up, too. “They don’t feel natural.”

  His frown deepens, but he nods. “Yeah, I think that’s it. I’ve never heard of a polluted spirit, though. It’s weird they only appear now.”

  “You mean when we’ve been polluting this Earth for over two hundred years?” I think about oil leaks in the ocean or the catastrophes of Fukushima and Chernobyl. If neither of those changed the spirits’ essence, then what the hell is turning these around?

  Wulf nods. “Yeah, pretty much. You said that the effects we have on natural places are what make spirits so angry. There have been natural disasters since time was young. Pompeii just to start with. But extreme weather phenomena have increased in the last hundred and fifty years, so there definitely seems to be a correlation. Still, angry spirits I can deal with. These monster spirits are nothing like that.”

  I think of the Erlking and his powers and rub the lightning scars on my arms in response. “No, they’re nothing alike.”

  After another glance, Wulf clears his throat. “Why did you choose to help my team in Berlin? Against the spirits? Especially considering Aeola is the daughter of the Erlking.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “We’re still on the road for another hour or so,” he offers innocuously.

  With a tiny smile on my lips, I start recounting how I met Aeola and how I accidentally faced the Erlking in such a way that he marked me with his words long before he marked me with these scars.

  “He must’ve been afraid you’d ruin his plan,” Wulf muses once I’ve finished, and we’re already navigating the streets of Budapest.

  To imagine a powerful spirit like that could be afraid of me is a stretch. I remember something else then. “You knew about him.”

  “No, that would have been reckless. I mean, leaving my team without a warning or protection would be unthinkable.” He shakes his head. “No, I had an idea. At best, I was wondering whether it was possible that someone like the Erlking was staking a claim to Berlin.”

  “Well, I wonder if he were afraid of you then.” It makes sense to me. “You would’ve been able to see and stop him fairly quick, probably, but you weren’t there.” I notice him tense up a little. “And according to Camille, things started as soon as you were gone.”

  Wulf rubs the wrist of his right hand, which he keeps on the wheel. “It would be freaky if he knew.”

  “Sylphs make awesome spies, right?” It comes out sharper than I intended it to. I guess I’m not entirely over his previous animosity.

  Wulf winces. “They certainly have the ability to, even if not all… or even most do it.”

  “Thanks.”

  We take the exit from the Ápárd Bridge down onto Margaret Island. The car we’re driving is actually József’s, so we don’t have to worry about bringing it back to some rental place. I look at the beautiful scenery on both sides of the island. It’s like a green oasis between the cities of Buda and Pest.

  The trees give way to a flower garden. Then it’s forest again, or it should have been.

  Instead, I can see workers taking down the trees the dryads have claimed. Iván and his team are patrolling the area.

  “No, no, no!” Panic overwhelms me as I try to open my passenger door, despite the fact that Wulf is still driving.

  Tires screech as he pulls the car to a stop. “What are…?”

  Whatever he wants to say to me, I don’t wait for to hear. I jump out of the car, running at full speed towards the workers. “Stop that! You can’t take the trees! You…”

  Iván catches me before I throw myself onto a chainsaw in my panic. “They’re already gone, Rika.”

  “What do you mean, they’re gone? Their trees are right there!” I point to where a worker is cutting down Szirom’s tree. Several others are already down. “Dryads need their trees. They…” The realisation hits me like another polluted wave from the nymph. I feel the blood drain from my face as I turn around in Iván’s grip. “You caught them.”

  He doesn’t even have to say it. I can see it in his eyes. No re
gret, just a ‘what did you expect?’ kind of look.

  “We were talking to them.” I’m still struggling to believe it.

  “And they told us everything they knew, or rather what they wanted us to know,” he replies in a detached voice that doesn’t really fit him.

  I give my wrists a tug, and Iván lets go of me. Apparently, I’m no longer at risk of hurting myself. “How could you do that?”

  “What happened here?” Wulf is striding over.

  I spin around to him. “Did you know?” A terrible thought crosses my mind. Despite insisting we go together, he hadn’t seemed enthusiastic this morning. “Did they ask you to distract me?”

  “Nobody needed you to be distracted,” Iván interjects, sounding annoyed. “Sure, it made things easier with you going on your little trip, but we don’t exactly need the permission of a civilian.”

  Once again, I stare at him. I can’t believe that this friendly guy who invited me to Budapest and who had been so selfless just days ago could be callous enough to catch the peaceful dryads I introduced him to last night. The very thought that I led him to them makes my stomach turn. I look at Wulf again. “Did you know?”

  “I did not,” he says at last, and it’s enough to keep me breathing. “I get why he wouldn’t want spirits living next to his base.” Oh gosh, no, stop talking. Please stop talking. “But to betray them like that? That’s quite something else.” He actually looks disgusted with Iván.

  The Hungarian commander snorts. “Seriously? I didn’t betray shit. How can you betray a spirit? They’re not human.” My knees are feeling like jelly at his point. “You’re gonna tell me that you would’ve left them alive after you knew where they were?”

  “I wouldn’t have talked to them,” Wulf answers, and it’s terribly noncommittal. But I can live with that. I already know how mercilessly he deals with spirits. But even he wouldn’t have earned their trust only to slaughter them.

  And that’s what’s happened here, I think as I turn to face the devastation. This is slaughter. Those trees were more than homes to the dryads. They were a part of them. And I betrayed them.

  The shock of what has happened stays with me throughout the evening. The spirit seekers are celebrating as if they claimed some colossal victory. I can’t even stomach a single bite. The only thing that keeps me from drowning in despair is Wulf’s grim face. He’s not joining in the jubilations. All his claims in the car weren’t just empty talk.

  Trouble starts when he retreats to his room. Suddenly, I feel all alone in a sea of enemies. Iván, who is so busy celebrating himself with shot after shot of pálinka, has betrayed my trust. It’s even worse than when Fez did it to me—seriously, why does this keep happening to me? As a result of Fez’s betrayal, I might have lost my life, but I didn’t cause innocent spirits to be hurt and caught.

  The weight of the betrayal I was made an accomplice of bears down on me with such force I want to throw up. No, this sickness goes so much deeper. I could spend the entire night in the bathroom and still not shed it.

  Once again, they’re toasting each other, and I can no longer bear being in the same room as them. I push away from the table and all but run outside, ignoring the rows of traps packed for shipment in the corridor. Stumbling on the last set of stairs, I fall to my knees on the sandy surface covering most of the ruins. Now there’s a matching set of ruins next to them where a forest stood this morning.

  Aeola comes down to dry my tears, but I shoo her away. I can’t bear the comfort. I haven’t deserved it. Instead, I stumble to the forest grounds, now an eerily quiet ground of tree stumps.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say to the dead plants. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want this to happen. I…”

  “It’s not your fault,” Aeola whispers, but I don’t want to hear it.

  I can’t even discern which trees belong to which dryad anymore. There are no shapes to guide me, no leaves to whisper to me. Every tree I touch is still in shock. They haven’t realised they’re dead yet. I mourn each of them as if they were my own. It’s the least I can do for the dryads who put their trust in me.

  When I reach the last one, I’m exhausted. Aeola dries my tears, and this time, I let her. I sit down with my back against one of the stumps, the one I believe belonged to Szirom.

  I don’t know how long Aeola and I sit there in silence, but we are startled by the sound of the trapdoor sliding open. Rebeka comes out, huddling a total of three spirit traps under her arm. They are some of the traps containing the dryads. At first, I think that she wants to let them free, since the look on her face almost mirrors my dismay. My heart thumps faster at the thought, but then she walks down the road at a brisk pace.

  “Let’s follow her,” I whisper to Aeola.

  We keep our distance, just close enough so we don’t lose her. Rebeka keeps up her pace as she traverses the island’s length, gets on the bridge, and enters the suburb. I follow her, even though the descent via escalators is so insanely deep I feel the earth closing in on me. I’ve always hated the Budapest Metro. It might be the oldest metro system in continental Europe, but it’s certainly the most oppressive.

  We barely make it down in time before the train arrives. Getting into the same wagon as Rebeka is a risk, but one we have to take if we don’t want to miss her stop. At the moment, she is too busy on her phone to notice anything. I would’ve expected her to be drunker after all the celebrations, but if she is, she doesn’t show any signs.

  She gets up just before the Aquincum stop, and I manage to follow her unseen. Few people get out at this time of night, so it’s pure luck she never looks over her shoulder as we ascend back to the surface.

  The old Roman settlement, predating the arrival of the Magyars, is located across the street. The museum is closed for the night, but that doesn’t stop Rebeka from approaching the side gate. Apparently, she has a key, because she slips through and threads her way through the ruins.

  Okay, if her behaviour wasn’t suspicious before, it definitely is now. Obviously, the spirit seekers really like their ruins, but why would she bring three traps that have been packaged for delivery to the SSA to Aquincum?

  To find out the answer, I climb over the fence and follow her, trying my best not to make a single sound on the gravelly paths of the old Roman city. Rebeka gets to a modern house at the back of the ruins and steps through the door. From the looks of it, it’s a research facility. I can’t follow her inside, but I can see a single window alight and creep under there, hoping to be able to listen in. Fortunately, it is slightly ajar, and I can hear Rebeka’s knock on what I believe is the doorframe.

  “I hope I’m not too late?” she says.

  “Never for you.” You’d think they’re having an affair, but with the traps under her arm, I no longer believe that. “I heard you had a good day.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” She doesn’t sound half as happy about it as I expected her to. “We caught enough dryads to spare, thanks to a little tip.” My heart aches at her sharp words. “Most of them aren’t too damaged.”

  “Well, I hope you brought me the good ones,” he says.

  Aeola looks absolutely horrified. She has risked floating up and takes a look at the inside.

  Rebeka says, “Of course. The most powerful for you. Did you manage to get anything from that salamander?”

  So, this is not the first time this is happening.

  “Not yet. I’ve managed to melt it down, but I’m struggling to join it with the metal. They’re opposing each other like oil and water.”

  I bite into my hand to stifle a gasp and stop myself from retching. Did that guy really just say he broke down a spirit to use it on some metal object?

  “Well, these are dryads, so it should be a lot easier to make something useful out of them,” Rebeka explains. She sounds disgusted, but I doubt it’s because of what this researcher does with the spirits. “I need your payment upfront.”

  The rustling of paper money can be heard through the window.
Not long after that, they say their goodbyes. The guy promises to share his results as soon as he obtains some. I slip around the corner of the house before Rebeka comes out to avoid running into her.

  I don’t follow her to the metro station. It’s an hour-long walk from here back to Margaret Island, but I need at least that much time to process the horrible things I’ve learnt.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I’VE SPENT MOST of the night outside in Aeola’s comforting embrace, but in the morning, I’m bursting to tell a human soul. Thus, I find myself slipping into Wulf’s room at the first chance I get.

  “What are you doing?”

  Boundaries are something that becomes very diffuse when you’re living on the streets. Regular people don’t sleep in their street clothes and generally assume they’ve got the privacy of their own room to change. In short, I’ve walked in on Wulf getting dressed for the day, and he’s only halfway there.

  I watch as the tips of his ears become even redder than my cheeks feel right now. The whole situation is ridiculous. Why am I even bothered—or why is he, for that matter—when I’ve seen him in bathing shorts only a few days ago?

  “I need to tell you something.” For lack of a place to sit, I lean against the door.

  Wulf snaps his belt closed, then bends forward to pick up a T-shirt. “It can’t wait a second?”

  “It has to be in private.” I hope that explains why it has to be in this room.

  “I see.” He pulls the T-shirt over his head. “Is this about yesterday?” His dark eyes look at me, full of concern. “I’m so sorry. This is not how we normally deal with things.”

  Just the reminder is enough for my chest to tighten. “I know. Normally, you don’t bother talking to them first.”

  Wulf comes closer, gently putting his hands on my elbows. “I mean it. I’m sorry.” There’s no further explanation. He’s not trying to weasel his way out of this. He just looks into my eyes until the pressure around my chest eases.